Geen spijt van de VrijMiBo

Het is weekend. De Times. Ze veranderen.

I hope to tell you we were shocked
At the 89-year-old man found dead
Of exposure and malnutrition
In his rat’s-nest apartment,
$180,000 in grimy envelopes scattered
Everywhere like old hopes, old sin.
In a local bank they found $300,000 more.

We lifted our 89-year-old feet
Onto the brass yacht rail,
Stared past our handmade shoes
Into the rosy pink horizon,
Raised to our withered lips
With liver-spotted hands
Our Remy Martin and disbelief,
Sip by despairing sip.
Prettig weekend. En be nice.